


Homecoming

by taichara



Category: Azure Striker Gunvolt
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:18:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs a place to hang their hat, as they say.  And people need people.  That has ways of making things work out, even if you <i>are</i> fugitive ex-resistance members and other interesting things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt: any, any, friends are the family we choose_

If this was ‘freedom’, than freedom turned out to be not at all what Joule had expected. Not that she was complaining, not at all! – but being on the run from the most powerful people in the country, in the company of a dangerous ‘terrorist’ … Well, didn’t that involve actually _running_ for longer than a few hours, to say nothing of hiding in cramped places and probably slinking through old monorail tunnels and that sort of thing?

Not doing what she doing right that moment, anyway. Which could really be boiled down to standing in the middle of a one-room apartment, stacked with crates, up in the rafters and exposed piping of some half-empty office building on the edge of the metropolis. There was room for a desk and a couch and tiny kitchenette; she assumed the amenities were hidden out of sight, and a bed likewise … but still.

How did he …?

“Gunvolt –?”

He blinked owlishly back at her in the dim lighting, distracted from his own methodical assessment of the oddly-shaped little place, and his braid lazily threw off a few small sparks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the couch. Plenty big enough. Bed’s in the other wall … what?”

Before she could open her mouth Lumen manifested and beat her to the punch, voicing the confusion she didn’t find words fast enough for. Joule decided just go ahead and let her Muse do the talking while she sorted out her thoughts.

_* That’s great and all, bro, but how’d you pull this together in the first place?*  
* I believe you, we believe you, but a safehouse out of nowhere …? *_

Gunvolt blinked again.

“Oh. I thought it was something more important, like Joule got winged on the way out or something and didn’t tell me.”

Joule’s blank-faced startlement and Lumen’s telepathic spluttering were equally ignored, Gunvolt turning away to crack open (and then half bury himself in) a crate of what looked like computer equipment … and kitchen utensils.

“Moniqa set this up when I broke comm and started breaking you out of that scrapheap. She buzzed when it was ready.”

Pulling himself back out of the box he was digging in, hands full of cables, he shrugged.

“They probably brought all this in while we were laying false trails. Asimov was even here, the jitthead. Just found some of his hair hanging off the crate seam.”

With a practiced flick, Gunvolt tossed the cabling onto the desktop and stepped around the pile of kitchen gear to sprawl on the pale couch with a cantankerous snort. Lumen shot a look at Joule, who – still feeling a little off-balance by it all – took up a seat at the opposite end. It took two false starts before she managed to ask her next question, but she just had to know –

“So, this isn’t some kind of trick or something you’re going to have hanging over your head to pay back because of me, is it …?”

Gunvolt waved the concern away with another snort.

“Nah. It ate my last pay packets but we’re free and clear.  
“Just need to make sure I find work before we run out of whatever’s stocked up or rent rolls around, but that’s nothing. Sumeragi’s creepshow still means plenty of work for a freelancer. Hey,”

– and he fixed Joule with a critically appraising look –

“When’s the last time you ate? I can go see what Zeno stocked the place with.”

_* You can cook? *_

The question was rude and had Joule glaring daggers at her Muse, but Gunvolt only grinned.

“I’m not some hightown arcology chef, but I can manage. It’ll be basic but I can make it edible. Everyone in QUILL can at least feed themselves.  
“Let me do something for you that’s not adding to blown up drones and body counts?”

The expression on his face was so appealing that it took everything in Joule’s power not to tell him he looked adorable. 

“Are you sure? I can –“

“I want to. Same way the other did this for me – for us. We’re sticking together.”

_* But I thought you quit QUILL, bro. *_

On his feet and headed for the pocket-sized kitchen, Gunvolt just barely paused to shoot a glance in the direction of the hovering Lumen.

“I did, yeah. So? They’re not just my ex-workplace.  
“We’re sticking together. _All_ of us. Even with Asimov’s bitching.”

He grinned again, eyes alight.

“The diversion’s long over. Wait until I sucker them into helping with the unpacking.”


End file.
